


Minds alike

by unknownlifeform



Series: Tolkien Gen Week [3]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aromantic, Bickering, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Gen, Queerplatonic Relationships, Tolkien Gen Week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:27:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25143895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknownlifeform/pseuds/unknownlifeform
Summary: Dwarves have special kinds of relationships, including ones suited to those who don't know what romantic love it. It's a matter of minds, not hearts
Relationships: Celebrimbor | Telperinquar & Narvi
Series: Tolkien Gen Week [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1818310
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Minds alike

**Author's Note:**

> This fic tortured me, I had the idea right there since the start but I couldn't for the life of me write it in a way that I liked. I must have re drafted it ten times
> 
> Day Three: Grey Spaces

“Hide me!”

Narvi slammed closed the door behind herself.

Celebrimbor raised an eyebrow. “My friend, this is _your_ workshop.”

“Well, if someone comes and asks, I am not here,” Narvi said.

“What is the matter?” Celebrimbor asked, amused. It would not be weird for him to be alone in Narvi’s workshop, as he was one of the few people allowed to do so. He was however rather curious as to what was annoying his friend like this.

“Someone is once again attempting to get in my good graces.”

“Ah, do you have any?”

Narvi glared at him, and Celebrimbr only smiled pacifically. “You’re hilarious, Elf.”

“I try to be. Why don’t you scare them off?”

Narvi huffed. “He’s young still, and looks for intents and purposes a kicked puppy whenever I push him away. As tenacious as a puppy, too.”

Sure enough, a knock came at the door. Narvi stepped aside and out of sight.

With a roll of his eyes at her antics, Celebrimbor went to open. A young Dwarf stood on the other side. “I apologize. If you are looking for Narvi, she is not here yet.”

The Dwarf seemed disappointed. “Do you know when she will be, Lord?”

“Not really, no. Shall I tell her you were here?”

“No need, thank you.”

Celebrimbor watched him go, and closed the door. “You are right, he does look like a sad puppy.”

Narvi shook her head. “I am getting tired of this.”

“Have you not made it clear to him you don’t appreciate people pursuing you?”

“I have, and he’s not doing that. He just follows me around and looks at me like I’m made of mithril. Most annoying, but I can’t scream at him for nothing.”

“Can’t you?”

“No. And before you try to make a funny joke, I only scream at you when you deserve it,” Narvi said.

Celebrimbor laughed. “ Truly a wonder that a sweet, kind lady such as yourself does not have a spouse yet.”

“Remind me again how old you are? Find yourself a Lady of Eregion first.”

Celebrimbor would not. Neither would Narvi ever consider marriage. They enjoyed to joke about it, but they both knew neither of them held any interest in a romantic partnership. Celebrimbor, personally, had never felt a need for one, nor did he understand why did certain people wish for it so badly. As for Narvi, she found that kind of things actively distasteful.

Unfortunately, they were both cursed with an endless line of suitors. After all, they were both considered with renown by their respective races. An artisan of Narvi’s caliber, and with a beard that reached down to her knees, was bound to attract half the Dwarves in Middle Earth. As for Celebrimbor, he was after all Lord of Eregion.

Mutual complaining about people trying to court them was a good way of bonding.

“You know,” Narvi said, “maybe we should just get married to each other. Would make people shut up at least.”

Celebrimbor let out a shocked laugh. “Us?”

“Why not. It would make my mother happy, for me to settle down.”

“Sure, with an Elf,” Celebrimbor said.

Narvi squinted at him. “Eh, you’re around here so often people have gotten used to your hairless face. Hopefully the kids will take from me.”

They looked at each other, and they both started laughing.

“We’d never hear the end of it,” Celebrimbor said. Gil-Galad would personally come to Eregion to ask him what exactly did he think he was doing. Galadriel would probably find it hilarious. That is, if her husband did not die of sheer outrage at the thought of a union between a Dwarf and an Elf.

“We could say it was political alliance. Good for business.”

“Yes, I’m sure that is how Durin would see it.”

“Durin is letting us work here with us, that is already much more than most Dwarves would allow,” Narvi replied.

She wasn’t wrong. There had been much opposition when Durin had had Celebrimbor help Narvi with the Doors. Nowadays most Dwarves were more accepting of his presence, but traditionalists were always around.

“And it wouldn’t be that big a problem to marry you,” Narvi continued. “What is it your traditions say? That I need to bed you? I can survive that.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Celebrimbor said. There was the wedding oath, for starters. And the formation of a marriage bond, which Celebrimbor wasn’t even entirely sure could be done between an Elf and a Dwarf.

He had never really wondered about it. Could Elves who did not marry other Elves form a bond with their spouses? He had never been versed in the study of fëar, but it was an interesting question. Perhaps someone who had married a Man had written down something about it.

Then again, there was a good chance the fëa of a Dwarf was more different to an Elf’s than that of a Man.

“I’d hope so. Anyways, there could be worse people to marry. At least you’ve got a good head, despite it being so high up in the clouds.”

Celebrimbor would hope so. It was on their heads, after all, that his and Narvi’s relationship was based. The Dwarves had a word for it, but Celebrimbor didn’t know how to translate it in any language outside Khuzdul. Perhaps he should attempt to make a translation himself, he was from a family of linguists after all.

Not married, not in love,  b ut  not just  any friends either. A special kind of bond that was based on two minds that were on the same track . They enjoyed each other’s company and would work together well, each bettering the other’s ideas and projects.  Even if the process usually required a lot of arguing,  Celebrimbor and Narvi could both be stubborn as mules when they wanted.

Dwarves put a lot of value on that sort of relationship. Work and craft and art was a fundamental part of their culture, more than in that of any Elves. For them, finding a person whose ideas and attitudes towards work could improve and enhance their own was as important as marrying.

It was a concept Celebrimbor had never met in Elves or Men, but he found it brilliant. As a smith, and one widely known as a genius, it was rare for him to find anyone whose thoughts could work at the same speed and in the same way as his. There was Annatar, yes, but he was a Maia, he was supposed to be skilled beyond compare. It was a different thing with Narvi, who was also flesh and blood like him.

Both people, however, brought him great pleasure do be around. There was a special thrill in working with someone who seemingly almost read his own thoughts and found ways to make his projects better. Someone whose ideas stroke inspiration in his own mind as well. A less craft oriented Elf would perhaps find this relationship confusing, but to Celebrimbor it was one of the best things Dwarves had shared with him.

Frankly, who needed to marry, when one had someone whose mind worked in such a good way with theirs?

“Well, enough joking around,” Narvi said, clapping her hands. “We both know we’re gonna die unmarried. Or, I will, at least. Speaking of important things, I’ve got a project I’ve been meaning to share with you.”

“I was just wondering what did you plan to do with these,” Celebrimbor replied, pointing at some small iron cogs on Narvi’s table.

“Let me show you then, Elf.”


End file.
